Nothing in Common
by Padfoot Reincarnated
Summary: As far as everyone can see, Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood have absolutely nothing in common. But that's not exactly true, as Percy can attest.


**Okay, guys. This is SLASH, Percy/Oliver. Don't like, don't read. I don't own Harry Potter, and I've never been good at the whole clever disclaimer thing, so let's leave it at that.**

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Percy Weasley knew exactly what to expect his first year at Hogwarts.

He had read through _Hogwarts, a History_ and _How to Survive Your First Year_. He had talked to his cousin and his parents and both his older brothers. He had, quite anxiously, owled Dumbledore to make sure Bill was lying about the exam on the first day.

Before he even stepped foot on the train, he knew that he would be sorted into Gryffindor. He knew that, on average, there were five boys and five girls per house per year. He knew that first years were expected to take six classes.

He didn't think anything could go wrong.

But as he stood in line and watched as the other kids were sorted, one by one, into their houses, none of them seemed to be heading to Gryffindor. He remembered 1872 when an entire year was sorted into Ravenclaw, and as recently as 1936, when no one at all was sorted into Gryffindor. He tried to imagine being the only first year Gryffindor.

They finally reached the w's, and it was Percy's turn. He jammed the hat on his head and it seriously considered every single house before finally turning him over to Gryffindor. He hurried to the table and sat beside his brothers, smiling as Bill slapped him on the shoulder and high-fiving Charlie.

Finally relaxed, he turned to watch the rest of the first years get sorted. There were only five left, two boys and three girls. To his immense surprise, the boy directly behind him, Oliver Wood, was also sorted into Gryffindor.

The boy, Wood, sat directly beside him on the bench. "Hi," he said. "Looks like we're the only Gryffindors this year."

Percy smiled politely, and glanced nervously at Charlie. He didn't think he liked the idea of only having one other roommate. What if they didn't get along?

Well, he would just have to make sure they _did _get along, that was all.

He stuck out his hand. "Yeah, I guess so," he said. "My name's Percy Weasley."

The boy took his hand and shook it. "I'm Oliver Wood."

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

By all accounts, they shouldn't have been friends.

Oliver soon proved to be a Quidditch fanatic. He was easily the best in the year at flying; Madame Hooch let him skip some lessons and use the hour as a study period. Percy wasn't terrible at flying, but he didn't like it when the class was supposed to go higher than about twenty feet. Oliver used his free hour to sketch out Quidditch strategies on his History of Magic notes—Percy would have used it for studying.

As obsessed as Oliver was with Quidditch, Percy was equally as involved with his schoolwork. He joined study-groups—and even formed one. He did extra reading besides what was required for class, and memorized ridiculously long fact sheets. The reading Oliver did that year consisted of Percy's Potions' notes and a biography of the Ballycastle Bats' keeper.

By many accounts, they _weren't_ friends.

After all, no one ever saw Percy watching the Quidditch games with Oliver. And when Percy spent long hours in the library searching for some obscure fact to finish an essay, Oliver was nowhere to be found.

But if you'd asked either of them who their best friend was, they would have answered, without a thought, each other.

After all, Percy might not have been as interested in Quidditch as Oliver was, but Oliver thought he was absolutely hilarious when he imitated the Slytherin captain. And maybe Oliver wasn't as studious as Percy, but Percy couldn't find anyone else who knew how to play Gobstones half as well.

By the time he was a second year, Percy had long since forgotten his fears about getting along with Oliver. He liked only having one roommate.

Or at least, he liked the fact that his one roommate was Oliver Wood.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

It wasn't true that they had absolutely nothing in Common. Both boys, for example, loved snowball fights.

Fred and George, once they came to Hogwarts, proved quite apt at organizing them. By Percy's second year, they'd managed to get most of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs in the school involved. It was every man for himself; snow flying everywhere.

Percy and Oliver were quick to stake out a spot near the edge of the lake to build their fort. That way, there was hardly anyway for anyone to sneak up behind them. The lake was hardly frozen over, and Percy could see the Giant Squid moving around beneath the thin sheen of ice.

Once the shelter was built, the boys began to form snowballs as quickly as they could. They worked in silence, the only noise their shallow breathing. Percy's glasses fogged up, and he could hardly see anything. Their fingers grew numb and blue through their gloves.

Oliver, predictably, grew tired of the monotonous business of snowball making. He stopped and sat cross-legged on the ground, leaning against the wall of snow they'd built and watched his friend. Percy continued on obliviously, making more snowballs at a feverish rate. Oliver grinned.

"Hey, Percy?"

Percy finally looked up from his work. He was surprised to see Oliver simply sitting there, looking utterly relaxed. "Yeah?"

"Duck."

Percy yelped as Oliver grabbed the nearest snowballs and threw them. Snow was in his jacket, his boots, his gloves. Oliver laughed.

But not for long. Percy grabbed a pile of wet snow from the lake and shoved it into Oliver's neck. Oliver snorted, and tackled Percy to the ground, burying his arms and legs in snow.

"Let me up!" Percy yelped, laughing.

Oliver pretended to consider it. "I don't think so," he said finally, sitting directly on Percy's chest and holding his arms down.

Percy laughed again, but after a half-hearted struggle for freedom, both boys were quiet.

Oliver's face was directly above Percy's, and Percy could see every snowflake clinging to his eyelashes. He could see every freckle on his pink cheeks, and he could see the way his blue lips shivered from the cold.

If either of them moved an inch, their lips would have touched.

But Fred and George burst in, yelling war cries and pelting snow as fast as they could. Oliver hastily helped Percy up, and they defeated the twins quite soundly.

Percy couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they'd been left alone.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

Percy and Oliver had always exchanged gifts, but fifth year was the first year his mother had made sweaters for friends as well as family.

She knitted a sweater for Fred and George's friend, Lee. Harry Potter got one, as well. But the sweater that Percy was most pleased with was Oliver's. It was green, with a large white OW on it. Oliver pulled it over his head immediately, and it fit perfectly.

"Does the 'W' stand for 'Wood,' or 'Weasley'?" Oliver asked, feigning confusion.

Percy laughed as his friend struggled to push his arms through the holes. "Weasley, I believe," he said. "Between me and the twins, Mum's probably heard so much about you that she thinks you're her long lost son."

Oliver grinned. "Maybe I _am _a Weasley," he said. "It would explain why I spend so much time with you."

Percy rolled his eyes and snickered. "Let's go down to the Common Room," he suggested.

"Okay," Oliver agreed, and they headed out of the dorms, side by side.

Oliver paused in the doorway and pointed up. "Mistletoe," he said.

Percy sighed and rolled his eyes. That, at least, explained what the twins were giggling about earlier. "We can just ignore it," he said.

Oliver paused. "I don't want to," he said, and pressed his lips to Percy's.

Percy was not quite sure how his hands found their way to Oliver's face, or how his glasses found their way to the floor.

He _did _know, however, that it was quite some time before they found their way to the Common Room.

**If you review, I'll give you...chocolate! Or vanilla, if you prefer, though I don't know why you would. Would. Wood. Hah.**


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